Hey, Look at This

11/26/2003

Doing it Mayflower-style

This just in from my left ovary: I will be ovulating in the next couple of days.

Okay, this is actually old news. Since my first IVF cycle, I have been acutely aware of what's going on in my ovaries. From about day 5 of my menstrual cycle I can feel a follicle developing, even when I'm not on stimulation drugs.

I know. You're thinking, "Julie. Do lay off the crack. There's a good girl." But it's true.

I first felt this mysterious pain back in May, post-ectopic. It was obviously not related, since the pain was on my left and my treacherous tube lurks malevolently on the right. I didn't know what it was until the next month, when it returned...and the next, and so on. It's not mittelschmerz. It's first-half-of-the-cycle-schmerz.

So we know a couple of things.

I ovulate. This is not something I dare to take for granted.

Unstimulated, my body seems to favor the left side. The fact that my right ovary has yielded only three miserable eggs over the course of three stim cycles gives this hyopthesis some weight.

This is not a surprise. In 1997, back in the olden days when my desire for a kid or two was distant and theoretical only, I had a laparoscopy for endometriosis. The surgery told us a couple of things.

Holy crap, is my pelvis revolting. I have the pictures to prove it. (Warning: Not for the squeamish. The white thing that looks like a ball of fresh mozzarella is an ovary.) Can't swing a dead cat through my peritoneum without hitting a big clump of endo.

One of my ovaries was turned almost inside out with it. Unfortunately, because I was laboring under Lupron-induced menopausal psychosis for six months after the surgery, I no longer remember which ovary it was, and seem to have no copy of my doctor's notes. But sleuth that I am, I have my suspicions.

This is all one long ramble meant to explain two simple things.

My awareness that I'm about to ovulate.

My body's preference to ovulate from the left side when given any choice at all.

Also, while we're at it...

My obsessive devotion to parallel structure.

My excessive fondness for numbered lists.

Although it's never worked before, I remain stubbornly determined to give my poor beleaguered body every chance to conceive on its own during the rare intervals between procedures. That means that tonight and Friday there will be sex, and plenty thereof.

I foresee a spirited game of Squanto - in - a - loincloth - happens - upon - a - prim - but - sweaty - Pilgrim - lass - bending - over - a - steaming - washtub. Just in case you were wondering what my Thanksgiving plans were.

Comments

Doing it Mayflower-style

This just in from my left ovary: I will be ovulating in the next couple of days.

Okay, this is actually old news. Since my first IVF cycle, I have been acutely aware of what's going on in my ovaries. From about day 5 of my menstrual cycle I can feel a follicle developing, even when I'm not on stimulation drugs.

I know. You're thinking, "Julie. Do lay off the crack. There's a good girl." But it's true.

I first felt this mysterious pain back in May, post-ectopic. It was obviously not related, since the pain was on my left and my treacherous tube lurks malevolently on the right. I didn't know what it was until the next month, when it returned...and the next, and so on. It's not mittelschmerz. It's first-half-of-the-cycle-schmerz.

So we know a couple of things.

I ovulate. This is not something I dare to take for granted.

Unstimulated, my body seems to favor the left side. The fact that my right ovary has yielded only three miserable eggs over the course of three stim cycles gives this hyopthesis some weight.

This is not a surprise. In 1997, back in the olden days when my desire for a kid or two was distant and theoretical only, I had a laparoscopy for endometriosis. The surgery told us a couple of things.

Holy crap, is my pelvis revolting. I have the pictures to prove it. (Warning: Not for the squeamish. The white thing that looks like a ball of fresh mozzarella is an ovary.) Can't swing a dead cat through my peritoneum without hitting a big clump of endo.

One of my ovaries was turned almost inside out with it. Unfortunately, because I was laboring under Lupron-induced menopausal psychosis for six months after the surgery, I no longer remember which ovary it was, and seem to have no copy of my doctor's notes. But sleuth that I am, I have my suspicions.

This is all one long ramble meant to explain two simple things.

My awareness that I'm about to ovulate.

My body's preference to ovulate from the left side when given any choice at all.

Also, while we're at it...

My obsessive devotion to parallel structure.

My excessive fondness for numbered lists.

Although it's never worked before, I remain stubbornly determined to give my poor beleaguered body every chance to conceive on its own during the rare intervals between procedures. That means that tonight and Friday there will be sex, and plenty thereof.

I foresee a spirited game of Squanto - in - a - loincloth - happens - upon - a - prim - but - sweaty - Pilgrim - lass - bending - over - a - steaming - washtub. Just in case you were wondering what my Thanksgiving plans were.